Thinking Hybrid: An Exploration of ‘Hybrid Warfare’ in Chinese Strategic Thought

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Leiden University

Faculty of Humanities

Master Thesis

Thinking Hybrid

An Exploration of ‘Hybrid Warfare’ in Chinese Strategic Thought

Author Supervisor

Wolfgang Minatti Prof. Dr. Isabelle Duyvesteyn

Student Number Second Reader

2265753 Dr. Lukas Milevski

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My biggest thanks to Isabelle Duyvesteyn for her support in a game-changing year, my parents for their open ears, Leonie for the everlasting motivational and intellectual support, Johannes for the inspiring talks and Bernhard for the occasional reality check.

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Warfare is a great affair of the state. The field of life and death,

The way of preservation and extinction. It cannot be left unexamined.

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1 Introduction

The 21st_{century has seen its share of allegedly novel and innovative concepts that claim to}

explain a changing character of war and the new security challenges the West is facing. While ‘low-intensity’, ‘new’, ‘asymmetric’, and ‘compound’ warfare proved to be little more than buzzwords and failed to gain a foothold in the broader defence community, the concept of ‘hybrid warfare’ managed to consolidate itself. Initially an analytical lens to describe the con-vergence of conventional and non-conventional tactics on the battlefield (Hoffman 2007), the concept’s meaning gradually expanded along with its rise to prominence within NATO de-fence circles in the wake of the Crimea crisis (Lasconjarias and Larsen 2015a, 7). It started to encompass both military and non-military means and describe their simultaneous use to achieve synergetic but deniable effects. Hence, hybrid warfare significantly shapes recent transatlantic defence planning and deserves close scrutiny (NATO 2010, 2017).

The concept’s popularity is puzzling not least in light of the substantial criticism that has been levelled against hybrid warfare. Some have argued that the breadth of the concept robs it of most analytical value (Tenenbaum 2015; Almäng 2019; van Puyvelde 2015). Others have criticised the categorisation of warfare in general (Strachan 2013; Gray 2012) and argue that Western notions of war and peace, conventional and non-conventional warfare have manu-factured the problématique of hybrid warfare (Rinelli and Duyvesteyn 2018). Most im-portantly, however, scholars have repeatedly called into question the novelty of the phenomenon (Mansoor 2012a; Scheipers 2016). These criticisms have significantly contrib-uted to our understanding and contextualisation of hybrid warfare and led some scholars to conclude that the concept should be dismissed altogether (Caliskan 2019).

While this thesis concurs with this assessment regarding hybrid warfare, it argues that the concept of hybrid warfare has not yet been sufficiently explored from the angle of strategy. Indeed, most studies that engaged with the historicity of hybrid warfare have understood the concept as an analytical framework and failed to consider whether hybridity has historically been part of the strategic considerations of strategic thinkers. Where studies did engage with hybrid warfare as a strategy, they have focused on Western states, failing to take into account

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the strategic thought of non-Western and non-state actors. This is unfortunate given that many of today’s security challenges are indeed posed by such non-state actors in a non-West-ern context (Rudolfsen 2017; Newman 2014).

Hence, addressing this gap in the literature on hybrid warfare, this thesis examines to what extend hybridity features in the strategic thinking of non-Western and non-state strategists. More specifically, it asks the following question: what role does ‘hybrid warfare’ play

histori-cally in the written strategic thinking of the two Chinese strategists Sun Tzu and Mao Tse-Tung?

Those two particular thinkers do not only illustrate very well the strategic thought beyond a state-centric and Euro-centric paradigm but also count among the most influential strategists of all times. Moreover, although difficult to compare, both their writings have inspired many subsequent generations and shaped strategic theory until the present (Angstrom and Widen 2015).

The thesis hypothesises that rather than being a novelty, hybridity has indeed always been a characteristic of warfare and strategy, particularly prominent within Chinese strategic thought. Both Sun Tzu and Mao Tse-Tung attribute great importance to hybridity and sider it a fundamental cornerstone of their strategic thought. The simultaneous use of con-ventional and non-concon-ventional means, the coexistence and coordination of military and non-military means as well as the creation of ambiguity do all feature within the strategists’ thinking. While this way of thinking might defy Western norms and codifications of warfare, it by no means constitutes an uncommon or unique way of war. As such, the concept of hybrid warfare creates an unnecessary category which portrays an inherent feature of war and strat-egy as something novel and extraordinary and thus, should be rebuked by NATO in favour of concepts that more accurately describe current security challenges.

The thesis’ relevance is threefold. First, the thesis offers a framework that seeks to clarify the vague and equivocal phenomenon of ‘hybrid warfare’ to allow for a more meaningful de-bate. Indeed, the thesis proposes to discard the value-laden term of ‘hybrid warfare’ and adopt the more neutral label of hybridity instead, separating the broad concept into two specific ones. Second, a deeper understanding of hybridity within the strategic thinking of non-West-ern strategists challenges the concept’s alleged novelty and its utility a category of warfare also

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from the viewpoint of strategic thinking. By shedding light on the strategic value which has been attributed to hybridity by strategists, it challenges the often-assumed universality of Western categorisations like conventional and non-conventional warfare. Third, the thesis adds to our understanding of the strategic thinking of non-state actors who have largely been overlooked as active participants to strategic thinking within the literature of strategic studies (Black 2016). Evaluating the role of hybridity within the strategic thinking of non-state actors adds to our conceptual understanding of hybrid warfare but also contributes to our knowledge of rebel strategy.

The thesis will advance its argument in four steps. First, it will review the current debate on hybrid warfare in order to locate this thesis within said debate, explore the concept’s dif-ferent meanings and point towards gaps in the literature. Second, introducing this thesis’ re-search design, it will define key terms, present a methodology and propose an attempt to clarify the concept of hybrid warfare by separating it into two distinct concepts on different levels of abstraction: operational hybridity and strategic hybridity. Third, the thesis will intro-duce Chinese strategic thought and conduct two interpretive case studies on the strategic thinking of both Sun Tzu and Mao Tse-Tung to explore the role of hybridity within their most significant strategic writings. Last, the thesis will give concluding remarks and present avenues for future research.

2 Literature Review

The following section will introduce the literature on hybrid warfare, first by elaborating on the roots and developments of the concept, second by reviewing the offered criticism, and finally by showing the gaps in the current literature.

The concept of hybrid warfare emerged out of the ‘new wars’ debate on the one hand, and the experiences of the US military in Afghanistan and Iraq on the other. After the Cold War, several scholars suggested that a fundamental change in the nature of war was underway (Münkler 2005; van Creveld 1991; Kaldor 1999). Concepts like asymmetric warfare, fourth-generation warfare and compound warfare popped up, hybrid warfare being one buzzword among many (Johnson 2018, 145). The concept gained wider recognition following a seminal

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article authored by Lieutenant Colonel Frank Hoffman and General James Mattis entitled ‘Fu-ture Warfare’ in 2005 (Mattis and Hoffman 2005). Hoffman later expanded on the concept, describing hybrid warfare as

the full range of different modes of warfare including conventional capabilities, irregular tactics and formations, terrorist acts including indiscriminate violence and coercion, and criminal dis-order (Hoffman 2007, 8).

Hoffman argued that future wars would be characterised by a convergence of state and non-state actors, of conventional and non-conventional means of warfare and of combatants and non-combatants. To illustrate the trend, Hoffman drew on a case study of the second Lebanon War in 2006 where Hezbollah employed both conventional and irregular tactics against the invading Israeli forces.

Subsequently, the concept became more and more widely adopted, eventually being intro-duced to both US and NATO defence circles around 2010 (Jacobs and Lasconjarias 2015, 9; Lasconjarias and Larsen 2015a, 7). NATO’s initial definition remained relatively close to Hoffman’s, defining hybrid threats as

those posed by adversaries, with the ability to simultaneously employ conventional and non-conventional means adaptively in pursuit of their objectives (NATO 2010, 2).

In the wake of the Crimea crisis in 2014, the concept of hybrid warfare rose to its current prominence as NATO officials started to delineate the Russian actions as part of a strategy of hybrid warfare (Veljovski, Taneski, and Dojchinovski 2017, 294). Consequently, the concept was expanded, describing a convergence of both military and non-military means that are employed to achieve a certain political goal (Reichborn-Kjennerud and Cullen 2016, 2). Stra-tegic ambiguity and, more importantly, ‘plausible deniability’, a concept which describes how means are employed in a way where the perpetrator can disclaim responsibility for its actions, were often referred to as additional elements of hybrid warfare (Lanoszka 2016, 180). This departure from a solely military focus towards a more inclusive concept is mirrored in NATO’s current definition of hybrid threats.

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Hybrid threats combine military and non-military as well as covert and overt means, including disinformation, cyber attacks, economic pressure, deployment of irregular armed groups and use of regular forces. Hybrid methods are used to blur the lines between war and peace, and attempt to sow doubt in the minds of targets (NATO 2018).

This short historiography has suggested that the concept of hybrid warfare has been subject to changes and disparities. Indeed, four tensions are discernible within the literature on the concept of hybrid warfare: whether it describes state or non-state actors; whether it is an ana-lytical lens or a strategy; whether it describes new security threats or raises awareness to cer-tain challenges; and whether it encompasses only military or also non-military measures.

First, the concept is torn between describing the behaviour of non-state or state actors. Although Hoffman’s definition considered both state and non-state actors as capable of em-ploying hybrid warfare, ‘[i]mplicit was that it would generally be a tactic of insurgent states or non-state actors’ (Galeotti 2016, 286). Indeed, observations of hybridity were originally largely deducted from non-state actor behaviour. Walker (1998) applied the concept to the United States’ war against Native American tribes, Nemeth (2002) analysed the Chechnyan rebels and, as mentioned above, Hoffman (2007) used Hezbollah as his case study. The con-cept gained popularity in the wake of ever more non-state actors using sophisticated wea-ponry and conventional means, thereby challenging prevailing notions within Western militaries that clear categorisation of warfare is both possible and sensible (Reichborn-Kjen-nerud and Cullen 2016, 1).

However, the 2014 Crimea crisis shifted the focus of hybrid warfare towards state actors, particularly Russia (Chivvis 2017; Lasconjarias and Larsen 2015b). Moreover, hybrid warfare has recently also been applied to states in East Asia, especially China and its policies in the South China Sea (Gawthorpe 2018; Aoi, Futamura, and Patalano 2018; Patalano 2018). Hence, scholars acknowledged that state actors might be able to employ hybrid warfare as well (Vel-jovski, Taneski, and Dojchinovski 2017). Moreover, their ability to centralise command could lead to advanced synergistic effects when converging different means of warfare, thus posing a considerably larger threat than hybrid non-state actors (Reichborn-Kjennerud and Cullen 2016, 2).

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The second tension in the literature is the question of whether hybrid warfare is an analyt-ical framework to explain modern warfare or rather a military doctrine which actors employ to advance their objectives. Originally, the concept of hybrid warfare was one of many at-tempts to make sense of what appeared to be a fundamentally altered military landscape (Renz and Smith 2016, 3). Hoffman (2007), for one, clearly sought to illuminate the reasons for the recent US military failure in Iraq and Afghanistan. However, Gray (2012, 4) has argued that we should ‘forget qualifying adjectives: irregular war; guerrilla war; nuclear war; naval strat-egy; counterinsurgent strategy. The many modes of warfare and tools of strategy are of no significance for the nature of war and strategy’. Similarly, Strachan (2013) criticises the em-phasis of Western militaries to place operational considerations above strategy as ‘astrategic’. More specifically, Caliskan (2019) opines that hybrid warfare adds little to our understanding of war and strategy but rather decontextualizes conflict. Moreover, Rinelli and Duyvesteyn (2018, 22) have criticised hybrid warfare to be based on a Western notion of war and peace, conventional and non-conventional warfare, which must not necessarily enjoy universal va-lidity. Cusumano and Corbe (2018) also level a normative argument against hybrid warfare as an analytical tool, namely its connotation as an unjust or illegitimate form of warfare which is often implicit in statements of the Western defence community. Angstrom (2017, 841) points towards a similar obstacle, arguing that while the concept’s elasticity makes hybrid warfare a problematic analytical lens ‘with which to understand modern war’, it makes ‘an effective tool with which to debate defense posture and scare-mongering’.

Hence, some scholars have started to consider hybrid warfare a military doctrine or strat-egy, investigating the active coordination and planning of such warfare by an actor (Lanoszka 2016; Reichborn-Kjennerud and Cullen 2016). As one scholar has argued, ‘[r]ather than being a new form of conflict, hybrid warfare is a strategy that the belligerent uses to advance its political goals on the battlefield by applying military force subversively’ (Lanoszka 2016, 176). Again, this shift largely corresponds to Russia’s activities, more precisely, to an article of the Russian General Staff Valery Gerasimov, sometimes referred to as ‘Gerasimov doctrine’, which has been claimed to be a Russian doctrine of hybrid warfare (Galeotti 2014). However, scholars have shown that such a reading of the article is a gross misinterpretation of

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Gerasimov’s intentions (Renz 2016; Galeotti 2018). Instead of ‘proposing a new Russian way of warfare or a hybrid war’, Gerasimov simply outlined what ‘he perceives [as] the primary threats to Russian sovereignty’ (Bartles 2016, 37). Hence, scholars criticised that hybrid war-fare does not actually exist as an autonomous strategy but is rather a label assigned to specific actors by the West (Renz 2016; Rinelli and Duyvesteyn 2018; Kofman and Rojansky 2015). Furthermore, as Scheipers (2016) has argued, the effective convergence of different means of warfare would likely result in contradictory objectives, thus limiting the concept’s applicabil-ity as an actual strategy.

A third tension can be found in the question of hybrid warfare being a tool to understand future security challenges as opposed to a tool of raising awareness. Some scholars hold that hybrid warfare accurately describes the West’s current security challenge (Veljovski, Taneski, and Dojchinovski 2017; Fleming 2011; Lanoszka 2016). Others, more critical of the concept, have argued that hybrid warfare is nothing new but instead has been a fundamental trait of warfare throughout history. Indeed, ‘hybridity is at the essence of war as a social activity, as every war forms a potential hybrid of previous ones’ (Rinelli and Duyvesteyn 2018, 18). While some have traced hybridity through history on the operational level (Mansoor 2012a), others have highlighted the continuity of hybridity in strategic thought (Scheipers 2016; Galeotti 2016). However, while holding that hybrid warfare is hardly an accurate description of current security challenges, some argue that it can serve to bring to the attention of defence planners the importance to look beyond traditional categorisations, initiating a process of transfor-mation and adaptation (Echevarria II 2016; Reichborn-Kjennerud and Cullen 2016).

Last and most fundamentally, the concept is torn between describing a convergence of military means alone or including non-military means like informational and economic measures as well. Initially, the concept of hybrid warfare focused solely on the convergence of kinetic means but in the wake of Crimea, some, including its creator, have criticised the orig-inal concept as too narrow, ignoring non-military means such as information warfare (Hoff-man 2014; Frid(Hoff-man 2017). Hence, the current NATO definition of hybrid warfare has expanded the concept so it does not even require a kinetic element and is marked by ambiguity and deniability regarding the employed means (Almäng 2019, 4; Lanoszka 2016). Most critics

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hold that hybrid warfare is too broad of a concept to be of use, rendering ‘any threat … hybrid as long as it is not limited to a single form and dimension of warfare’ (van Puyvelde 2015; Almäng 2019; Tenenbaum 2015). This is especially true for the NATO definition of hybrid warfare, with some scholars arguing that it has become just another term for foreign policy or grand strategy (Caliskan 2019; Renz 2016).

Despite the concept’s tensions and equivocation as well as the criticism levelled against it by academia, hybrid warfare has risen to prominence in defence planning circles, particularly within NATO. While the heated debate on hybrid warfare has furthered our understanding of the complex term and unveiled many of its weaknesses, there are key issues that have yet to be addressed by scholarship.

First, the topic has not yet had sufficient attention from the angle of strategy. Indeed, as Johnson (2018, 158) notes, ‘[w]hat is curiously absent from most of the literature on hybrid warfare is the presence of strategy’ as most accounts engage with the concept as an analytical framework or on an operational or tactical level (for an exception see Caliskan 2019; Scheipers 2016). Historical accounts, moreover, have scrutinised hybrid warfare as an analytical tool but did little inquiry on hybrid warfare in the strategic thinking of past strategists (Mansoor 2012a; Tenenbaum 2015).

Second, while the concept has been used to describe rebel and insurgent behaviour, the perspective of rebel groups has been largely ignored and their strategic thinking is under-re-searched with regards to hybrid warfare. This is unfortunate since the rebels’ perspective and insights from their strategic endeavour might not only further our understanding of hybrid warfare as a strategy but also shed more light on the historical continuity of hybridity in war-fare.

Third, the literature on hybrid warfare is heavily Western-biased. While some scholars have applied the framework to a non-Western setting (Gawthorpe 2018; Ong 2018), the con-cept nevertheless remains a Western invention to describe – perceived or real – security chal-lenges to the West. While many scholars of strategy concur that strategy is of universal applicability (Luttwak 2001; Gray 2010), others have questioned this approach and criticised the neglect of non-Western strategic minds (Black 2016). Analysing hybrid warfare within a

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non-Western context would, therefore, help to contextualise the historical and spatial occur-rence of hybridity in warfare.

3 Research Design

The review of the literature on hybrid warfare has pointed towards three gaps which this thesis seeks to address by posing the question of what role ‘hybrid warfare’ plays in the strategic thought of non-Western strategists, specifically Sun Tzu and Mao Tse-Tung. However, before proceeding with answering the question, several of its elements need clarification. First, both strategy and strategic thinking have to be defined to clarify the thesis’ scope. Second, the con-cept of ‘hybrid warfare’ needs further unpacking to make it analytically tangible. Third, the thesis’ method of interpretive case studies used to expand on strategic thinking in a non-Western and non-state context will be introduced.

3.1 Strategy and Strategic Thinking

Strategy has generally been defined as ‘the art or science of shaping means so as to promote ends in any field of conflict’ (Bull 1968, 593). More crispier, one US colonel has referred to strategy as ‘E[nds] + W[ays] + M[eans]’ (Lykke 1989, 2). Notably, there are multiple interde-pendent levels of strategy. The highest level is grand strategy which refers to the ‘direction and use made of any and all among the total assets of a security community for the purposes of policy as decided by politics’ followed by military strategy, described as the ‘direction and use made of force and the threat of force for the purposes of policy as decided by politics’ (Gray 2013, 2). Next, the operational level translates military strategy into battleplans that guide and coordinate forces within a certain theatre of war. Last, the tactical level addresses the actual conduct of battle and the employment of forces in specific engagements. Ultimately, strategy constitutes a civil-military bridge that translates policy into feasible military plans. Hence, we might consider strategy as the plans to combine political ends with military ways and means (Gray 2010, 7).

Strategic thinking, then, is the act of making up and drafting these plans and can be defined as the deliberations, considerations and plans which deal with the question of how to achieve a

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thinking is necessarily speculative. On the one hand, it is about the ‘making of plans, the ful-filment of which depends on decisions taken by the opponent as well as on those we take our-selves’ (Bull 1968, 595). On the other hand, ‘the context of available resources and technology, the time horizon, the geographical conditions, history, culture, morality, ethical considera-tions, emotions and intuition need to be incorporated’ as well (Duyvesteyn 2013, 4).

3.2 The Concept of ‘Hybrid Warfare’

What the review of the literature on hybrid warfare has suggested is that the concept has be-come increasingly equivocal and thus, analytically intangible and unmanageable which is why this thesis proposes to separate hybrid warfare into more precise and tangible working con-cepts. Still, it is necessary to elaborate more on what a concept is in the first place. Sartori (1970, 1039) defined concepts as ‘data containers’ which have three qualities: (1) the label, meaning the word used to describe the concept; (2) extensions, meaning the sum of empirical events to be described by the concept; and (3) intensions, meaning all properties that define the concept (Gerring 1999). The number of intensions automatically influences the concept’s level of abstraction, illustrated by Sartori’s ‘ladder of abstraction’. By moving a concept up or down the ladder, a concept becomes more abstract or more specific as intensions are sub-tracted or added, influencing the number of extensions it encompasses.

This ladder of abstraction is also relevant to the concept of hybrid warfare as it allows to illustrate ‘the multidimensionality of concepts, particularly insofar as this relates to work on the history of concepts and their changes of meaning over time’ (Mair 2008, 189). Notably, when altering a concept’s level of abstraction, its label should be adapted accordingly. In the case of hybrid warfare, however, scholars have repeatedly altered the concept’s level of ab-straction without indicating this change in the label. This has caused much of the conceptual confusion surrounding hybrid warfare outlined in the literature review. To clarify the tensions and ambiguities within the concept of hybrid warfare, it is useful to consider them two in-stances of the same concept that range on different staves of the ladder of abstraction.

Notably, this thesis will investigate the concept of hybrid warfare in terms of its use as a military strategy, not as an analytical tool which is why hybrid warfare is not confined to state or non-state actors but a strategic consideration viable to any strategic actor. Then, there are

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two concepts discernible that describe different strategic postures, one on the bottom end of hybrid warfare’s ladder of abstraction, and one on its upper end.

First, what we will call operational hybridity is hybrid warfare in a narrow sense. It essen-tially follows Hoffman’s (2007) original definition and focuses on military means, describing the strategic use of the convergence of conventional and non-conventional means of warfare. Hence, operational hybridity can be understood as a military doctrine at the operational level which can be employed by both state and non-state actors.

Second, what we will call strategic hybridity is hybrid warfare in a broader sense which follows the definition by NATO (2018). It can be understood as a strategy that seeks to coor-dinate the simultaneous use of both military and non-military (political, economic and infor-mational) means to achieve a political goal while seeking to create ambiguity about one’s intent and deniability regarding the ownership of these means by ways of deception and sub-version. It might also be employed by both non-state and state actors although the latter are said to enjoy an advantage due to a more centralised command.

Both operational hybridity and strategic hybridity offer a way to sharpen the edges of the concept of hybrid warfare by separating it into two distinct concepts residing on two different levels of strategy. The departure from the label ‘hybrid warfare’ towards the more neutral label of hybridity also allows avoiding the use of the unnecessarily value-laden term hybrid warfare has become. As such, operational and strategic hybridity offer a thorough framework with which to examine the role of ‘hybrid warfare’ within the strategic thinking of Sun Tzu and Mao Tse-Tung.

3.3 Methods

To explore the role of hybridity in the strategic thinking of non-Western strategists, the thesis will conduct two exploratory case studies. More specifically, it will employ what Lijphart (1971) referred to as ‘interpretive case studies’ and what Levy (2008) calls ‘theory-grounded case studies’. Starting from a theoretical and conceptual consideration, it seeks to explore the theoretical implications within the cases themselves without necessarily deducting a general-isable theoretical claim (Levy 2008, 5). Hence, guided by the theoretical and conceptual lens of hybridity, the thesis will select case studies that centre on the strategic thinking of specific

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actors in order to explore their reflections on both operational and strategic hybridity in war-fare. Notably, the study’s explanatory power will be largely limited to the selected cases them-selves. Nevertheless, as Eckstein (2000, 135) remarks, ‘the application of theories to cases can have feedback effects on theorizing’ and thus help to advance our general understanding of hybridity in war and strategy as such.

Each case study will scrutinise a specific actor’s strategic thinking by conducting a histor-ical inquiry as outlined by Sager and Rosser (2015). Each case will draw on primary sources in the form of the actors’ most important military writings and secondary sources to contex-tualise the actors’ strategic thinking historically and culturally. These sources will then be used to construct a narrative of the strategic thinking of the actors from which inferences can be made regarding the role of hybridity in their strategic thinking. The thesis’ case selection will be guided by the three gaps identified above which is why each case will discuss the strategic thinking of an actor in a non-Western and non-state context.

First, the thesis will centre on Sun Tzu and his famous treatise The Art of War. Written more than two thousand years ago, the treatise is one of the most fundamental and timeless contributions to the field of strategic studies and it is also illustrative of strategic thinking in a non-Western context (Handel 2001, 1; O'Dowd and Waldron 1991, 26). As such, finding hy-bridity within Sun Tzu’s strategic thought would not only show the historicity of the phenom-enon but also suggest its central position within strategy and warfare in general.

Second, the thesis will study Mao Tse-Tung’s War of Resistance, advanced in several pam-phlets and writings in the late 1930s. Mao is said to be ‘one of the most influential theorists of insurgency in the twentieth century’ (Beckett 2001, 70) and his strategic thought has been referred to as a model for subsequent insurgencies from the Vietnamese communists to more recent ones like the Islamic State (Girling 1969; Whiteside 2016; Marks 2007). Hence, Mao’s strategic thinking is one of the most important strategic blueprints for violent non-state actors and a clear departure from Western strategic thought. Finding hybridity within Mao’s strate-gic thinking would suggest its prominent role within non-Western, non-state warfare.

Certainly, this case selection limits the analysis to Chinese strategic thought. Nevertheless, Sun Tzu and Mao Tse-Tung illustrate the strategic thinking of completely different historical

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periods. Moreover, both have been influential well beyond their own time and thus, it is plau-sible to assume that elements of their thought did also shape the strategic thinking of later military theorists. As such, these cases only form a first attempt to explore the role of hybridity within non-Western, non-state strategic thinking, but both are meaningful and significant in their own right and beyond.

4 Chinese Strategic Thought

Before transgressing further into the two case studies, it seems reasonable to set the stage by a short discussion of Chinese strategic thought. Interestingly, two major historical studies of strategy start their historical investigation in ancient China (van Creveld 2015; Freedman 2013) which is not surprising given that ‘China has the longest continuous tradition of mili-tary literature of any culture, dating from about 500 BCE right through the present’ (Sawyer 2012, 108). While the twentieth century introduced Western military works to China which did make a mark on subsequent strategists, not least Mao Tse-Tung (Marks and Rich 2017, 410), they never superseded the particularities and characteristics of Chinese strategic thought (Sawyer 2012, 108). Not only did many technological innovations like the crossbow and gun-powder emerge in China (Fairbank 1974, 2), strategy itself is ‘a Chinese military term with thousands of years of tradition and culture behind it’ (Thomas 2007, 47). In the so-called Warring States period (400-200BCE), a rich tradition of Chinese strategic thinking developed, Sun Tzu’s writings being only one among many. The ‘Seven Military Classics’, compiled by later rulers and still relied upon today, all stem from this time and form the cornerstone of Chinese strategic thought, serving as the major frame of reference for subsequent writings and reflections on strategy (Sawyer 1993, 17; van Derven 2000, 7).

While both technologies and ideas transpired into the West, the ‘dominant Western un-derstanding of Chinese strategic thought is based on translated sayings and principles’ (Yuen 2014, 13). Much of Chinese strategic thought in the West is only selectively read with simplis-tic axioms gaining the most prominence (Yuen 2014, 14). Moreover, historical surveys of strategy only have given limited attention to Chinese thought or ignored it altogether (Freed-man 2013; van Creveld 2015; Parker 2005).

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This is unfortunate as Chinese strategic thought diverges in many respects from a Western understanding of strategy and is a distinct tradition of strategic thinking shaped by the coun-try’s historical, cultural and geographical conditions. While Western thought is closely entan-gled with the use of force, a clear separation of war and peace and conceptualisations of rationality, these elements play a lesser role in Chinese strategic thought. Instead, van Derven (2000, 9) identifies three major elements. A first consideration was the socio-political status of the military. As Fairbank (1974, 4) notes, ‘[h]ow to keep the military under control within the social order … became an early focus of Chinese concern’. Thus, civil-military relations remained a central element of strategy from Chinese antiquity to the present. Second, Chinese strategic thought generally holds that war should never be waged for personal glory or gain but ‘serve the preservation or the restoration of the perceived cosmological and moral order’ (van Derven 2000, 9). The understanding of war as an instrument of politics was another en-during cornerstone of Chinese strategic thought long before Clausewitz noted it in the West (Kane 2007, 113).

Third and most importantly, war was never limited to the occurrence of violence as a West-ern understanding of the term would suggest (Rid 2012). Since the ‘offensive or excessive use of force’ was generally opposed (Zhang 2002, 76), military means were considered ‘a last re-sort when disorder had reached such proportions that neither indoctrination in the classical teachings nor suasion by rewards and punishments was efficacious’ (Fairbank 1974, 6–7). This gives rise to two diverging elements in Western strategic thought and that of the Chinese. On the one hand, Western strategic thought seeks victory by engaging in decisive battles with maximum force while in Chinese thinking would recommend avoiding battle or else, win by employing minimum force (Handel 2001, 16; van Creveld 2015, 16). On the other hand, the West’s notion of war and strategy focuses narrowly on military strategy and solely military means with non-military means being ranked secondary (Handel 2001, 46). The Chinese, however, adopt a strategic thinking that is ‘grand-strategic and systemic in nature’ (Yuen 2014, 14). It is grand-strategic as it seeks to employ both military and non-military means, attributing the prevalent role to non-military means (O'Dowd and Waldron 1991, 33). It is systemic as it does not consider the various dimensions that constitute war as a social activity

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in isolation (military, economic, organisational and moral) but acknowledges their interde-pendence and contexts (Yuen 2014, 13).

Notably, Chinese strategic thought is anything but static and has developed throughout the centuries, but although being millennials apart, the strategic thinking of both Sun Tzu and Mao Tse-Tung is illustrative of these three traits as the following chapters will show. As such, ancient China developed a tradition of strategic thought that in some regards differs markedly from Western conceptualisations and continues to shape Chinese strategic thought until to-day.

5 Sun Tzu’s Art of War

The Chinese treatise of Sun Tzu, commonly referred to in the West as The Art of War, is one of the earliest military writings on strategic thinking and arguably among the most influential to date. Already widely known at its time of origin, more than two thousand years ago in China, it was adopted frequently by later Chinese dynasties. Subsequently, it travelled to Japan and coined the strategic thinking in much of Asia (O'Dowd and Waldron 1991, 25). In the eighteenth century, The Art of War became known to the West when a French translation was published for the first time which soon was widely endorsed by military circles in Europe, eventually becoming a standard work of military studies also in the West (Macdonald 2017, 68).

The following analysis will argue that hybridity is an essential trait of Sun Tzu’s strategic thinking. First, operational hybridity becomes apparent in his discussion of the interplay be-tween the orthodox and unorthodox, a crucial dialectic in his strategic thinking. Second, stra-tegic hybridity is displayed by Sun Tzu’s grand-strastra-tegic approach and his emphasis on non-military means next to any non-military endeavour as well as his frequent recommendation to conceal oneself and one’s plans in order to create what today would be called strategic ambi-guity. Moreover, his philosophical assumptions, inspired by Taoist dialectics, makes the sim-ultaneous existence of contradictions an essential trait of Sun Tzu’s thought, causing the concept of hybridity to emerge much more naturally than in Western philosophical thought.

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Sun Tzu’s treatise is a so-called bingfa, a type of military writing designed to serve as a practical guide for generals and strategists. While The Art of War was not the first of its kind, it is the oldest document that survived the centuries. Moreover, it was ‘the most succinct, comprehensive and best-structured bingfa of the era, offering a systematic analysis of opera-tional tactics combined with the first-known outline theory of military strategy’ (Macdonald 2017, 28).

Notably, Sun Tzu as a historical figure and author of The Art of War has long been subject to debate. Conventional knowledge holds that the book was authored during the Autumn and Spring Period in China (500BCE) by the military genius Sun Wu at a time when ritualised, aristocratic battle gave way to ‘bigger and more disciplined armies of conscripts, coordinated in action by signals and commanded by professional military men with more concern for win-ning and less for ritual’ (Fairbank 1974, 5; Freedman 2013, 44). Because Sun Wu may or may not be a historical figure, some attribute the treatise to the historically well-attested figure of Sun Bin, a military theorist during the Warring States period (400-200BCE). Others argue that

The Art of War is not a coherent work authored by only one person but a compendium with

texts from different authors from different decades (Macdonald 2017, 4). The question of au-thorship aside, The Art of War certainly gives insight into the strategic thinking of one or more persons (hereafter Sun Tzu) several centuries BCE in China.

It should be noted that a multitude of translations of The Art of War exists, some of which contradict each other due to the ambiguity and vagueness surrounding some of the ancient Chinese characters (Sullivan 2018). Furthermore, depending on the level of abstraction that is given to certain characters, one arrives at more or less precise meanings and, more im-portantly, at either the operational or strategic level. However, as Griffith (1971, 43) notes, Sun Tzu’s insights should be understood on both the operational and the strategic level. This thesis draws primarily on the translations of Mair (2007) and Ivanhoe (2011). Other transla-tions are used to emphasise diverging interpretatransla-tions.

5.1 Sun Tzu’s Strategic Thinking

The central consideration in Sun Tzu’s treatise is the achievement of shih, a term that is hard to translate but might best be described by ‘strategic dominance’ (Macdonald 2017, 40). Sun

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Tzu likens strategic dominance to the ‘swiftness of a raging torrent [which] can sweep away boulders’ (Sun Tzu 2007, 92) and to ‘turning over a round boulder at the top of a mountain ten thousand feet high’ (Sun Tzu 2007, 94). Strategic dominance, then, is the tipping point when the balance of forces shifts in one’s favour. Thereby, shih is best understood in both an operational and strategic manner: It might describe the tactical advantage in terrain, a psy-chological weakness in the adversary’s moral, a loophole in the adversary’s defence or an over-reliance on allied support, everything that can be utilised in a decisive manner to achieve victory. Hence, Sun Tzu seeks to gain a comparative advantage over the adversary on a stra-tegic rather than material level to avoid a decision of victory by numbers (Lord 2000, 302). ‘Therefore, he who is skilled in battle places emphasis upon configuration [shih] and does not put undue responsibilities on his subordinates’ (Sun Tzu 2007, 93).

The question in Sun Tzu’s strategic thinking then becomes how to achieve shih. Inspired by Taoist thought, The Art of War offers four dialectical concepts whose employment would lead a strategist to achieve strategic dominance in any conflict. These four dialectics are har-mony and chaos; emptiness and solidness; orthodox and unorthodox; and form and formless-ness.

Before further examining these dialectics, we should first explore the epistemological and philosophical assumptions of Sun Tzu to get a more substantial understanding of his use of dialectics. Indeed, as Black (2004, 88) notes, Western observers have frequently failed to fully grasp the strategic thought of Sun Tzu due to their failure to acknowledge the role of Taoism, ‘the philosophical basis of the Art of War’. The religious and philosophical movement of Ta-oism originated in the sixth century BCE with an influential work of Lao Tzu although its core ranges back even further into 1100BCE to the dialectical contradictions of yin and yang (Yuen 2014, 61; Lao Tzu 1982; Cleary 1988, xvi). Notably, Taoist dialectics differ from the in the West more commonly known Hegelian dialectics in the need to resolve dialectical contradic-tions, thesis and antithesis, in a synthesis. Rather than pursuing such a resolution, Taoist phil-osophical thought accepts the notion of dialectical monism, which appreciates the bigger whole that is made up of two opposing poles (Yuen 2014, 16). In that sense, dialectics are also not fixed but describe a circle and ‘while remaining in complementary, dynamic tension,

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revert to their opposite after reaching their pinnacle or extreme’ (Sawyer 2007, 55). This dia-lectical approach allows Sun Tzu to adopt a more holistic and inclusive perspective on strategy where the ‘enemy and even the situation are part of the overall “system” and have been taken into consideration in the first place … since whatever is the opposite is always complemen-tary’ (Yuen 2014, 16).

The first and arguably most central dialectic in Sun Tzu’s strategic thinking is that of ho and luan, harmony and chaos, which gives rise to two diverging sets of prescriptions, the preservation of order and the causing of chaos. On the one hand, Sun Tzu emphasises that one should avoid disrupting harmony in any war, holding that it is best ‘to take the opposing country intact, whereas destroying the opposing country is next best. Taking an opposing army intact is best, whereas destroying it is next best’ (Sun Tzu 2007, 84). Indeed, Sun Tzu’s recommendation ‘to subdue the enemy’s troops without fighting’ (Sun Tzu 2011, 17) to min-imise the disruption of harmony, induces him to adopt a somewhat larger scope on strategy (Handel 2001, 24). Essentially, Sun Tzu’s ‘advice is to use the economic, the social and politi-cal as an alternative to military action’ in both war and peacetime (Coker 2003, 18). Fairbank (1974, 7) attributes this stance to a Confucianist pacifism while Lord (2000, 304) argues that his emphasis on non-military means comes from a pragmatic rather than moral considera-tion. As war always places a great burden on one’s polity and economy, it could possibly dis-rupt one’s own harmony.

On the other hand, chaos should be a tool employed to achieve victory. Sun Tzu ‘believed that the political goals of warfare could be achieved by creating a state of chaos (luan) in the enemy's society’ (O'Dowd and Waldron 1991, 27). Indeed, while chaos should be overcome on one’s own side, one should attempt to magnify it on the adversary’s side. However, the creation of chaos does not point toward military means but rather ‘meant the destruction of the psychological, social, and political order’ (O'Dowd and Waldron 1991, 27). Guided by this maxim, Sun Tzu provides a ranking of possible targets in war.

[T]he most superior stratagem in warfare is to stymie the enemy’s plans; the next best is to stymie his alliances; the next best is to stymie his troops; the worst is to attack his walled cities (Sun Tzu 2007, 85).

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Sun Tzu suggests to disrupt the opponent’s plans by ‘diplomatic and political bargaining, negotiations, and deception’ and ranks the disruption of alliances, again preferably by non-military means, second best (Handel 2001, 44). Only then does he recommend to choose purely military means in the pursuit of one’s objective. As Yuen (2008, 188) points out, this emphasis on non-military means blurs the distinction between war and peacetime. Indeed, disrupting plans and alliances is not confined to wartime and thus, defies the narrower West-ern definition of military strategy.

A second dialectic is that of hsu and shih, emptiness and solidness. Understood on a tactical level, emptiness refers to a poorly defended position and solidness to a fortified position. How-ever, on a strategic level, emptiness hints at weak moral or illegitimate generalship and solid-ness at high troop morale and strong leadership (O'Dowd and Waldron 1991, 31). Both hsu and shih are in constant flux and should be exploited to confuse the adversary and lead it to attack or target those positions or factors most disadvantageous to it. Sun Tzu likens this effect to ‘a grindstone [thrown] on an egg’ as an example of ‘emptiness and solidity’ (Sun Tzu 2007, 92).

A third dialectic is that of ch’i and cheng whose translations are manifold. While cheng describes something ‘traditional, correct and proper’ and is most commonly translated as or-thodox, ch’i delineates the ‘unpredictable and unorthodox’ (Macdonald 2017, 33). Sun Tzu holds that the ‘basic battle configurations are only the conventional [cheng] and the uncon-ventional [ch’i]’ (Sun Tzu 2007, 92), thus attributing central importance to this dialectic. No-tably, strategic dominance (shih) ‘derives from the combination [emphasis by author] of both’ (Lord 2000, 303). Indeed, Sun Tzu holds that it ‘is common to join battle with conventional tactics and to achieve victory through unconventional tactics’ (Sun Tzu 2007, 92). Notably, this dialectic does not necessarily equal the Western categorisation of conventional and non-conventional warfare as ‘the orthodox and unorthodox are situationally defined’, depending on the expectations of the adversary (Sawyer 2007, 64; Lau 1965, 331). Moreover, the two concepts are dialectically related as ‘[i]ndirectness and directness, in a mystical way, are con-sidered to be part of the same substance or energy. A cheng force can turn into a ch’i force, and a ch’i force can become a cheng force’ (O'Dowd and Waldron 1991, 30).

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The tactical meaning of the dialectic becomes apparent in Griffith’s (1971) translation of the above-quoted sentence when he translates that ‘[i]n battle there are only the normal [cheng] and extraordinary [ch’i] forces’ (Sun Tzu 1971, 92), thus equating ch’i and cheng with types of forces. Understood in this way, Sun Tzu argues to simultaneously employ both or-thodox and unoror-thodox units during an engagement, the former to ‘engage and fix the en-emy’, the latter to achieve ‘surprise and maneuver’ (Lord 2000, 303). At the time, unorthodox forces might have conducted night-time raids, flank attacks or diversionary manoeuvres (Sawyer 2007, 64). Other translators have understood this dialectic on an operational level. Ames (1994, 64) translates the terms with ‘irregular and regular deployments’ while Cleary (1988, xli) even refers to them as ‘orthodox and guerrilla methods of war’. Such a perspective would understand this dialectic as the employment of different forms of warfare.

Notably, both interpretations have been criticised by sinologists. While the ch’i/cheng dia-lectic was indeed often interpreted by later (Chinese) strategists as tactical or operational con-cepts and the ‘terms … sometimes apply to forces, as in the phrase ch’i ping … in general they have much wider application than that’ (Lau 1965, 330; Graff 2007, 911). Indeed, even Griffith (1971, 43) notes that this dialectic should be considered on a strategic level as well. Wey (2014, 134) suggests that, strategically, ch’i and cheng should be understood as the simultaneous and interrelated use of military and non-military means. This sounds reasonable in the light of a famous Taoist saying that goes ‘[w]ith the orthodox govern the state, with the unorthodox employ the army’ (Lao Tzu 1982, vs. 57).

A last dialectic in the strategic thinking of Sun Tzu is that of hsing and wu hsing, form and formlessness. He seeks to ‘cause my enemy to reveal his dispositions [hsing] while hiding my own [wu hsing]. Thus, my forces are intact while those of my enemy are divided’ (Sun Tzu 2007, 97). Yuen (2008, 188) notes that Sun Tzu understands form not in a physical but rather systemic sense. As such, two sets of prescriptions can be deduced from this dialectic, to unveil the adversary’s hsing and to conceal one’s own to achieve wu hsing (Lord 2000, 304).

On the one hand, Sun Tzu argues that a strategist should try to unveil one’s adversary’s form, stating that ‘[h]e who knows his opponent and knows himself will not be imperiled in a hundred battles’ (Sun Tzu 2007, 87). Consequently, he devotes a whole chapter to the

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question of espionage as a tool to gather intelligence about one’s adversary. Sun Tzu ‘views intelligence as one of the most important force multipliers available to political and military leaders’ which is why he ‘emphasizes the need for meticulous intelligence-related prepara-tions before the outbreak of war and preceding each campaign and battle’ (Handel 2001, 177). Notably, Sun Tzu’s conceptualisation of intelligence goes beyond the mere gathering of fac-tual information. He includes a psychological dimension as well which ‘addresses the neces-sity to correctly grasp and evaluate the intentions, traits, and thought patterns of the enemy’s decision maker’ (Yuen 2008, 190). Only this allows to correctly assess an adversary’s hsing and employ an according strategy.

On the other hand, Sun Tzu holds that one should try to conceal one’s own form. ‘[T]he extreme skill in showing one’s positions may reach to the degree of there seeming to be no position. When there are no positions [wu hsing], even deeply planted spies cannot detect them, and even a wise foe will not be able to make plans against me’ (Sun Tzu 2007, 99). Like before, this dialectic should be understood both operationally and strategically as the ‘enemy must be physically misdirected on the ground and mentally wrong-footed in his planning and preparations, in both cases expending valuable energy and resources before battle’ (Macdon-ald 2017, 35–36)

Thus, on an operational level, wu hsing should be understood as the utilisation of feints and facades. Sun Tzu recommends to ‘take a circuitous route to reach the enemy, tempt him with advantages’ (Sun Tzu 2007, 101). By compelling the adversary to anticipate one’s tactics, one would have the possibility to concentrate one’s forces for a decisive blow while the adver-sary either concentrates his forces on a wrong position, due to bad intelligence, or has to dis-perse his troops to cover all possibilities (Sun Tzu 2007, 97).

On a strategic level, wu hsing should be understood as formlessness in a more abstract sense. Indeed, Sun Tzu recommends to ‘[p]onder and weigh before moving. He who is the first to know the planning of how to make the circuitous [wu hsing] straight [hsing] will be victorious’ (Sun Tzu 2007, 102). Hence, while strategy is by its definition something to be countered, Sun Tzu suggests that a good strategy, through the use of wu hsing, ‘will remain undetected and thus not countered’ (Yuen 2008, 188). Far from only keeping one’s plans

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ambiguous, formlessness should also allow a strategist to provoke a particular response from the adversary.

The achievement of such formlessness necessitates two elements. First, one needs the abil-ity to adapt. A ‘body of soldiers has no constant configuration … [just like] a body of water has no constant form. He who can gain victory in accordance with the transformations of the enemy is called daemonic’ (Sun Tzu 2007, 99). Second, Sun Tzu recommends the use of de-ception. ‘War is premised on deception’ and ‘[t]he prime concern in war is carefully attending to the enemy’s intentions … This is known as “using cleverness to achieve success.”’ (Sun Tzu 2011, 102, 82). Notably, Sun Tzu employs a rather broad understanding of deception, covering both military and non-military measures that must be employed before and during war. These include ‘both active and passive measures, from elaborate deception plans, simple baits, and diversion, to secrecy and concealment’ (Handel 2001, 167).

5.2 Sun Tzu’s Hybrid Warfare

Having outlined both the historical context of Sun Tzu’s writings and his strategic thinking in the form of four dialectics, we can now ascertain the role of hybridity within his strategic thought.

Operational hybridity, meaning the convergence of conventional and non-conventional means on an operational level, clearly finds resemblance within the ch’i/cheng dialectic. Un-derstood as tactical concepts, Sun Tzu recommends the use of two kinds of units, one employ-ing orthodox, the other unorthodox means in a semploy-ingle engagement, for example the joint employment of frontal and flank attacks. Understood operationally, the dialectic can be inter-preted as the use of different methods of warfare, like guerrilla warfare and compound war-fare.

What renders this dialectic a manifestation of operational hybridity is, first, Sun Tzu’s em-phasis on the simultaneous use of ch’i and cheng when he states that it ‘is common to join battle with conventional tactics and to achieve victory through unconventional tactics’ (Sun Tzu 2007, 92). Second, he emphasises the dialectical monist nature of the two approaches where both poles form the extremes of a circle, always in flux, converging and diverging, with a ch’i approach becoming cheng and vice versa. Both of these considerations clearly suggest

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the central role of operational hybridity as Sun Tzu actively encourages to simultaneously em-ploy and to converge and blur orthodox and unorthodox means into each other.

Notably, Sun Tzu’s dialectic of the unorthodox and the orthodox should not simply be equated with Western categorisations of conventional and non-conventional warfare because the classification as ch’i and cheng essentially depends on the expectation of the adversary. Nevertheless, in a Western context, both approaches might very well concur with these cate-gorisations. For example, when Russia annexed Crimea, the West would have considered a conventional invasion cheng, while the ‘little green men’ were arguably ch’i forces. In Hoff-man’s case of the 2006 Israel-Hezbollah War, irregular warfare would have been cheng for the Israeli forces while the conventional defence they encountered was ch’i.

Strategic hybridity, the simultaneous use of military and non-military means in an ambig-uous and deniable manner, can equally be found in Sun Tzu’s strategic thought. The im-portance of military and non-military means finds its equivalent in Sun Tzu’s ho/luan dialectic of harmony and chaos. While Sun Tzu sees causing chaos on the adversary’s side as pivotal, his concern of maintaining harmony leads him to adopt a grand-strategic perspective on war. While by no means belittling the role of military action, he emphasises that such ac-tions should always be preceded and accompanied by non-military means like diplomacy, economic pressure or deception. Such thinking can also be deduced from the ch’i/cheng dia-lectic, when understood on a strategic level, describing the interrelated use of non-military (cheng) and military (ch’i) means. Hence, the combination of ‘military and non-military as well as covert and overt means’, as NATO (2018) defines hybrid warfare, and the resulting blurring between war and peace would by no means have surprised Sun Tzu. Rather, it is an integral part of his strategic thought and he would warn of the ‘militarization of war’ more common in the West (Yuen 2014, 109).

The second aspect of strategic hybridity, ambiguity and deniability, finds its correspond-ence in the hsing/wu hsing dialectic of form and formlessness. On the one hand, the idea of formlessness, of one’s dispositions equating ‘that of water’ (Sun Tzu 2007, 99), closely resem-bles the idea of strategic ambiguity where one purposefully cloaks one’s intentions and plans to create advantageous situations (Eisenberg 1984; Sawyer 2007, 59). On the other hand, Sun

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Tzu emphasises the element of deception in the pursuit of formlessness, stating that ‘[w]arfare is a way of deception’ (Sun Tzu 2007, 78). Again, covering both military and non-military means, deceptive measures should conceal one’s intention, and divert the adversary’s atten-tion, something which could very well entail measures to ensure deniability. Deceptive ma-noeuvres, secretive plans and disinformation campaigns are all viable tools in the strategic thinking of Sun Tzu, not least in light of the importance he attributes to intelligence. Moreo-ver, as the discussion of emptiness (hsu) and chaos (luan) has shown, one might not only target military and physical positions but also the adversary’s moral, the legitimacy of its lead-ership, and the stability and order of its polity and society to create exploitable weaknesses. Interestingly, similar concerns have recently been voiced in the debate on hybrid warfare in the context of resilience (Thiele 2016).

Looking beyond the empirical manifestations of hybridity in Sun Tzu’s strategic thinking, there is an epistemological point to make as well. Arguably, the relational Taoist philosophy renders the assumptions underlying Sun Tzu’s strategic thinking quite different from Western thought. Indeed, the four paradox dialectics are ‘fundamental Chinese philosophical con-cepts’, and thus, at the heart of Chinese strategic thought as well (O'Dowd and Waldron 1991, 33). As noted above, rather than resolving the contradiction of two opposite poles in a syn-thesis as Western (Hegelian) dialectics would, Taoist dialectics acknowledge the idea of a di-alectical monism (Yuen 2014, 13). Consequently, hybridity might be as challenging and unexpected to Western strategic thought precisely because it falls short of offering a synthesis in a Hegelian sense. Rather, it constitutes a form of dialectical monism: two apparently con-tradicting approaches to war co-existing, converging and forming a larger whole without ever consciously resolving their contradiction. In a way then, hybridity, it could be argued, is a fundamental building block of Taoist philosophical thought which manifests itself not least in the strategic thinking of Sun Tzu.

In conclusion, we have seen that hybridity not only features prominently in the strategic thought of Sun Tzu but more importantly, is actively sought and recommended as the most elaborate and auspicious way of war. Hence, the relevance of hybridity seems to be nothing new but more than two thousand years old. Interestingly, the underlying philosophical

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assumptions of Sun Tzu’s strategic thinking seem to have facilitated the emphasis on hybrid-ity. Given the diametral difference of Taoist philosophy to Western thought, however, this might indeed explain the different positioning of hybridity within Western and Chinese stra-tegic thinking and the difficulty the West has to grasp the concept. Thus, having ascertained the role of hybridity within Sun Tzu’s strategic thinking, we turn to Mao Tse-Tung.

6 Mao Tse-Tung’s War of Resistance

In the midst of the Chinese Civil War and the Japanese invasion of China, one member of the Chinese Communist Party made a hitherto largely neglected way of war, insurgency, promi-nent by outlining a clear and concise military strategy that promised victory for those hope-lessly inferior to their adversaries. Thereafter, Mao Tse-Tung’s strategic thinking has frequently been reduced to tactical considerations on guerrilla warfare, not least because his most famous treatise in the West has been On Guerrilla Warfare, translated by Samuel Griffith (Singh 2013, 558; Mao 1961). However, this falls short of the breadth of Mao’s thinking which does by no means limit itself to purely military and tactical considerations (Marks 2009, 17).

The following section will show that hybridity forms an essential element in Mao Tse-Tung’s strategic thinking. Operational hybridity is an important part of Mao’s three-staged protracted war where mobile warfare and guerrilla warfare are simultaneously employed in varying constellations. Strategic hybridity prominently features in Mao’s understanding of war and politics which he considered being part of a continuum. The army should at no point limit itself to military tasks but employ non-military means as well, be it political mobilisation, political warfare or international diplomacy. Moreover, Mao emphasised the need to deceive one’s adversary to create ambiguity and thus, offset one’s inferiority.

To fully understand Mao’s strategic thinking, we first need to explore the particular his-torical and military context he lived in. In 1927, China’s nationalist Kuomintang government launched a communist purge, killing thousands of members of the Chinese Communist Party and ousting the survivors (Griffith 1961, 15). This forced the communists to regroup in the countryside of Jiangxi, giving up their plans of urban revolution by the proletariat and seeking to instigate a rural peasant insurgency instead (Singh 2013, 559). Over the next years, the

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Kuomintang conducted several encirclement campaigns against communist bases, the last of which almost led to the communists’ total destruction and forced them to retreat to the North-ern Chinese hinterland in what became known as the ‘Long March’ in 1935 (Laqueur 2004, 247; Girling 1969, 81). During these years, Mao Tse-Tung, until then a lower party official, managed to consolidate his position as military leader of the communist insurgency. The sit-uation again fundamentally changed when Japan invaded Northern China in 1937, soon con-trolling most cities and communication lines while China’s vast countryside remained relatively free (Singh 2013, 559). The common enemy led communists and the Kuomintang to collaborate from 1938 onwards in what they called a ‘united front’ which collapsed in 1941. After Japan’s defeat in 1945, the communists managed to rush into abandoned Manchuria and seize the relinquished Japanese weaponry to face the Kuomintang (Record 2007, 42). In 1949, they expelled the Kuomintang to Taiwan, securing final victory in a decades-long war and founding the People’s Republic of China.

Notably, Mao’s writings, and with them the development of his strategic thinking, span across several decades from his early adolescence to his senior years as Chinese head of state. However, it was in the midst of the Chinese Civil War, specifically in the late 1930s, when Mao laid out the fundamental elements of his ‘War of Resistance’, universalising his strategic ex-periences and considerations in a clear framework of ‘revolutionary war’ (Katzenbach and Hanrahan 1955, 322). After emerging victoriously from the decades-long Chinese Civil War, Mao’s strategic thinking quickly gained fame as China set out to disseminate, re-publish and translate Mao’s writings (Johnson 1973). Fellow revolutionaries saw in Mao’s strategic think-ing a blueprint or at least an inspiration for their own struggle, most notably the Vietnamese during the first and second Indochina War, while Western observers modelled their counter-insurgency strategies based on Mao’s insights (Girling 1969; Katzenbach and Hanrahan 1955; Laqueur 2004).

Scholars have recently questioned the relevance of Mao’s strategic thinking. Some have argued that structural circumstances significantly facilitated the strategy’s success, most no-tably the Japanese invasion, which had weakened Mao’s primary adversary, the Kuomintang (Marks 2007, 9; Joes 2004, 200; Record 2007, 40). Others have more fundamentally questioned

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the validity of Mao’s strategic thought, arguing that the communists’ actual strategy did not conform with many of Mao’s strategic aspirations (Grice 2019; Porch 2011). While these ob-jections hold valuable insights into the practical implementation of Mao’s strategic thought, they hardly discredit his strategic thinking and its influence on both his and subsequent in-surgencies. As Rich (2018, 1067) aptly puts it, ‘[i]s our view of Clausewitz’s military thought centrally shaped by what he did or did not achieve in Russia after Napoleon’s invasion in 1812?’

Hence, the following analysis will largely draw on Mao’s military writings from the late 1930s, specifically Problems of Strategy in China’s Revolutionary War, Problems of Strategy in

Guerrilla War against Japan and On Protracted War. Notably, Mao’s most important works

were originally designed as lectures and should ‘be read as a morale builder for the hard-pressed Chinese forces’ (Johnson 1968, 440). Moreover, it is contested whether some texts have actually been written by Mao himself (Schram 1963, 63). In his writings, Mao ‘used a simple language sprinkled with images, summed up in short phrases which are easy to re-member and therefore to apply … His exposition of theory, always related to concrete fact, is rarely thorough and systematic’ (Guillermaz 1977, 142).

6.1 Mao Tse-Tung’s Strategic Thinking

During the Chinese Civil War, Mao encountered two central problems that prompted his stra-tegic thinking, both of which he considered in On Protracted War. First, Mao fully acknowl-edged his own military inferiority and the superiority of his adversaries. Nevertheless, Mao believed that the adversary could be defeated and warned against those ‘subjugationists’ un-willing to resist (Mao 1966, 199). Second, and as a consequence of the former, Mao held that quick victory was utterly unrealistic. Instead, one should follow a set of political, strategic and tactical considerations Mao labelled ‘War of Resistance’ which he believed would not only guarantee survival but also prepare his insurgency for an eventual counter-offensive (Tsou and Halperin 1965, 84).

As Katzenbach (1962, 12) argues, military doctrine commonly knows three tangible com-ponents, weapons, supplies and personpower, and three intangible ones, space, time and will. While Western doctrine usually seeks to optimise the former three, Mao took a different

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approach (Katzenbach 1962, 13). Given his notorious weakness in both weaponry and sup-plies, he emphasised personpower instead and sought to utilise the intangible components of strategy. Hence, Mao’s central endeavour was to retreat in space and trade it for the organisa-tion of ‘time made available to secure the right or “correct” political will’ (Rich 2018, 1067). This in turn would ensure survival until parity between the two belligerents was achieved. Hence, Mao’s theory was essentially ‘a theory of substitution: substitution of propaganda for guns, subversion for air power, men for machines, space for mechanization, political for in-dustrial mobilization’ (Katzenbach and Hanrahan 1955, 327). This, in turn, necessitated that his War of Resistance needed to be protracted.

Before transgressing into the more detailed account of Mao’s prescriptions, it is necessary to discuss his understanding of war and politics. Explaining the relation between the two, Mao cited Clausewitz, who he had allegedly read in Chinese translation: ‘War is the continuation of politics’ (Mao 1966, 226; Marks and Rich 2017, 410). However, Mao went beyond Clause-witz when adopting a more dialectical notion of war and politics. Arguing that ‘[p]olitics is war without bloodshed while war is politics with bloodshed’, he acknowledged that rather than just being a continuation of politics, war and politics form two contradictory aspects that necessarily coexist and interrelate at all times (Mao 1966, 227; Tsou and Halperin 1965, 91).

Seeing military and political affairs forming a continuum induced Mao with a holistic, al-most grand-strategic, view on war and means of warfare (Adie 1972, 1). Considering the es-tablishment of a communist counter-state as the overriding political goal, his strategic analysis consisted essentially of two parts, military and political means, since ‘[w]herever there is war, there is a war situation as a whole [emphasis by author]’ (Mao 1966, 81; Marks and Rich 2017, 410). Any strategic endeavour necessarily needed to advance along multiple lines, only one of them being military means (Marks 2009, 17). In that sense, as Shy and Collier (1986, 839) remark, Mao ‘diverged markedly from traditional Western military thought, with its fairly rigid distinctions between war and peace, and between political and military affairs’. Notably, Mao considered military means the most decisive element of struggle as early as 1927 when he stated that ‘political power grows out of the barrel of a gun’ (Mao 1966, 274; Schram 1994, 128). But although he argued that it would be armed struggle and the organisational form of